Friday, May 1, 2015

Colour, shape, and form.

Tonight, I am colour, shape, and form. I'm begging for truth from incandescent hues.
I'm a million different facets of a heavy, ethereal gem, Lying awake in bed under a heavy blanket
Of longing, but also of brilliance.

Nightingale tune is urging its way through the cracks in my window and it finds me so sullenly dreaming.

Tonight, I am the uncomposed. Tonight, I am the unwritten, unsung rhapsody of a history of aimless troubadours, bards and vagrant minstrels.

I am the young boy, and I am the violin.

I am February's shredded paper heart, and I am distance.

Tonight, I am the center of my very own nothingness.

Tonight, I am fleeting and temporal.

I am love, and I am loss.

Tonight, I am the kept.

Tonight, I am every lover's secret, bound in scarlet ribbon and tucked safely under a rapidly vacated wardrobe, sealed in wax, and kissed.

Tonight, I am lace, and I am cold steel.

Because, you see?
Tonight, I'm sorting it all out,
Sifting through the sands and keeping the heaviest parts, but

What more did I expect to find?

Than to be stranded here with a heavy heart,
On my own little island of sand.